Painting the Town
by Webfellow
Summary: In the apocalypse, everything is a fight for survival, even a trip to the local hardware store.
1. Painting The Scene

One hundred caps was a fair amount of money, and if one was clever, it would pay for a lot of things. Several nights at the Dugout complete food and drink, a full magazine's worth of bullets, or a couple of chems.

"That's crazy. I'm not going out there for anything less than three hundred caps."

It wasn't, however, worth leaving the safety of Diamond city to search for paint.

"Two hundred."

Heading out into the Waste was a daunting prospect for Nate, but the same could be said for anyone really. Diamond City, his current base of operation, was the hub of law, order, safety and baseball. Outside was a different story.

"Listen, you aren't paying me to just _get_ you some paint. Just getting is to Hardware Town is risky, plus I have to deal with however many raiders are there. And assuming there's any paint left at all, hauling it all the way back. Now, am I getting those three hundred caps, or is the wall getting a fresh coat of crimson red?"

There was a second of hesitation before the answer. Nate could see very clearly that he had made the situation a hostile one. It was a dangerous move, which was going to lead to either jail time or the three hundred caps. He really didn't want to have to kill the older man if he could avoid it, he wasn't even armed, but if he called for the guards…

"Fine, you'll get your caps, now get going."

Despite the stern look the old man gave him, Nate kept his composure and left without another word, relieved and thankful that the threat had worked.

Beyond the walls of the Great Green Jewel of the Commonwealth the only law people followed was that of shotgun diplomacy. Raiders, Gunners, or plain desperate wanderers of the Waste; if one wasn't being gunned down by their fellow man, then they faced the fury of mother nature's irradiated creatures. The monstrous wildlife that prowled the land, hunting anything with a pulse and leaving nothing behind but a bloody mess. Given all that awaited him beyond the walls, it stood to reason that one hundred was nowhere near enough of a reward for him to risk his neck for a can of paint.

Every step was a dawdle as during his routine walk of the meagre selection of goods the markets had to offer. There was no rush to leave the city behind. He didn't believe himself merciless enough to even consider buying a "Swatter". Not one full of nails, or wrapped in barbed wire, or encased in metal; bludgeoning another man to death wasn't something he ever wanted to do again, not if he could help it.

A magazine was all from Commonwealth Weaponry, bought only to add to the small bullet collection he was building mag by mag. Ammunition was expensive in bulk, and there were never enough bullets stashed away to ease the fear of running empty in the heat of battle. The mean looking combat shotgun strapped to his back had one him more than a few firefights but chewed through the ammo reserves. As did the backup pistol holstered around his waist. The only weapon not taking a constant toll on his caps was the knife that accompanied the pistol. Dubbed the Last Resort, it was a new addition to the arsenal, once wielded by a raider who didn't quite understand that shotguns work best at close range. With a bit of cleaning and sharpening, it made a fine weapon.

Nothing needed to be built or repaired, his weapons and armor kept in constant top shape, so Myrna and her surplus of junk didn't get a look in. Instead, Nate made his way over to Chem-I-Care to find Solomon casually huffing jet and looking as relaxed as ever. Perfect timing.

"Your regular, Vault Dude?" In his chemmed up state, the question had taken three slow seconds, but the small payoff was worth it.

"No jet today. I need a shot of psycho if you have it."

"For you, two shots. For the price of one. Take'em or _I_ will." Success. While high, Soloman was charitable to a near fault.

"You drive a hard bargain, Solomon. Here're your caps."

"Good. Now go do what you gotta do, I want some noodles." He brushed Nate aside and called across to Power Noodles, "Hey, Takahashi?! Takahashi! Yes!"

Delayed long enough, Nate eventually made his way up the steps, counting each one as he stepped closer to the main gate. His Pipboy had everything set for the violence that was to ensue. Vitals were stable, ammo was sufficient, and the map was marked for Hardware town. A quick nod to the guard had the gate lifted up and out of his way, it time to go fetch some paint.


	2. Not As Black As He's Painted

With a slow breath, he filled his lungs and tasted the thick polluted air. Now faced with the decaying ruins of the city he used to love so many years ago he stepped away from the protection of the city behind. Shotgun cocked and at the ready, he prepared himself for the inevitable. Old military training flooded to the forefront of his mind.

" _Expect no mercy from the enemy, soldier._ _They want you dead_. _You hear me? Dead as a thanksgiving dinner! Six feet under and worm food. You ever want to see your family again? Any of you want to see your girls back home? Only one way that's ever going to happen. You shut up, you nut up, you point your gun at the commie bastards and_ don't miss! _"_

The drill sergeant certainly did his job. Under his rigorous training and constant appraisal of malice, Nate and the rest of his unit became one of the most ruthless squads in the U.S. fighting force. Blood and violence became all they knew, men trained like dogs for years until their sergeant was proved to be psychologically unfit for service, and by extension, every soldier trained under him.* Nate returned home to Nora. The sight of her standing in the doorway to greet him was the start of his journey back to the world of humanity. It was arduous, and he had his lapses more than once. Triggered flashbacks and violent outbursts, but the ruthlessness had chipped away over time. His loving wife was the light at the end of the tunnel and with her help he was a soldier no longer, a became a husband and, in time, a father.

The training was hardwired into his person, but it was deeply suppressed, right until he lost everything in the Vault. The rage dragged out every memory hidden away in repressed corners of his mind. The training, the orders that justified murder, every night spent wishing he didn't have to wake up to another day of being who he was.

Nate stepped out of the cryo-pod ready to rip throats out but was only met with the body of his wife and a frozen audience to his show of anger and grief. Shaun was gone, ripped right from her arms and taken by strange men to who knows where. Nate had no time to mourn, that he could do once Shaun was safe. The Vault would be her resting place and the pod her coffin, for now, he promised, for now. No one was going to stop him from finding his son, his last connection to his own humanity, or so he thought.

In mere days, several near death experiences taught him that he was far from the worst thing to walk the Wasteland. He was no fierce monster, awoke from a two-hundred-year slumber with a vengeance, no, he was nothing more than an ex-soldier with a little bit of a mean streak.

The only thing that made any sense was that people were the same as they always were, just a little more violently inclined. His training had given him power of those same people before, he just had to be sure he kept it that way. War-torn future or not, Nate was still a scary, capable man and he soon put himself to use. Any paying work was good work, but mercenary jobs paid the most and very quickly became a reoccurring thing. It brought in a steady stream of "caps" and didn't limit him to one location in his search for Shaun. Despite all his travelling and searching, he always found himself back in Diamond City saving up for that house. Fetching the paint was just bringing him three hundred caps closer his goal, three hundred little metal pieces that justified his leaving the city behind if even for a day.

Getting to Hardware Town wasn't half the challenge Nate had made it sound to the old man requesting the paint. The streets were clear of any of the usual threats, no hungry animals or raiders or out for his skin. It was worrying, and Nate quickly ducked behind the array of cars that littered the streets to avoid being seen. He weaved from car to car, unsure what to look for but knew that it had to be dangerous enough to scare off anyone or anything from the prime hunting grounds that was the main road.

Nate skulked along two more blocks before a pungent smell hit him like a punch. The scent of the rotting dead hung in the air, and, much to Nate's dismay, only grew stronger as he continued along to Hardware Town.

"Arrrg! Too quiet. Wanna kill something."

The sudden call for violence confirmed his suspicions, there were Super Mutants about. It was possible that they had taken over the area, tearing apart and eating anyone they could get their hands on. Nate remained silent with his back against the car. He couldn't see any of the green giants in his immediate area, which meant they hadn't seen him either and he still had a chance to escape with all his limbs attached.

"Want. To. _Kill_ something!"

The super mutant was growing closer with every second. Nate felt his heart skip a beat as it rounded the adjacent corner. The putrid smell alone was enough Nate to guess where it was, but it's constant yelling made it very clear that it was just waiting on the opposite side of the street. Running was no longer an option, it was suicide. The mutant wouldn't stop chasing him until it had him cornered and brained him with a sledgehammer, and that was assuming it didn't have a gun. By adjusting the side mirror of his vehicular cover, he could see that it did, in fact, have a sledgehammer slung over its musclebound shoulder. It was well-worn and coated in a distressing amount of gore.

With this, Nate began to plan his next move. Simply outrunning the monster wasn't going to work and fighting it outright was just crazy; the only option left was to get distract it and flee the area. He collected an empty can that lay at his feet and threw it well over the car and into the other street. After the cacophony of sounds, it made as it met the floor, a blood-curdling silence followed, then

"Die human!"

There was a quick sound of propulsion before the car was crushed under the swinging hammer, barely missing Nate but utterly destroy his cover. Scrambling for distance, Nate turned around to see the mutant standing before him with its rocket-powered sledgehammer in hand. It raised the hammer high and struck again, Nate rolled to avoid the attack. Once on his feet, he did as instinct commanded when faced with imminent death. He ran, and the super mutant was only a dozen steps behind.

*I want to make it clear that I have no idea if this can actually happen in the real world military

A.N. Hey all, wanted to let you know that I'm still around and not quite yet dead. Anyway, while I have you and if you care to listen, I'd like to apologize for the delays in my other series. Life is being difficult again and I've hit a slight wall with it. This story here was to just get a clean slate until I can complete the other one. As such, it will be significantly shorter in chapter size and overall length. Plus, I'm running out of fanfiction things to write about and time to get invested into new potential fanfiction material but that's a problem for later. As always, your favourites are much appreciated and the reviews more so. See you in the next chapter.


	3. Painted Into A Corner

Hey readers, quick disclaimer, this story details a minor blood and gore scene. Nothing you're going to lose your lunch over, but it's graphic enough to maybe make you uncomfortable. If that's not your jam, I'm afraid this isn't the story for you, if this is your jam then I hope to read your comments afterward.

"Stop running human!"

Another crushing blow from the super sledge destroyed the car separating the mutant and the cowardly human. In one motion, the super mutant retrieved his hammer from the car and had quickly closed the gap. Now with only five feet between them it continued to swing, and Nate pushed himself that little bit harder every time it did. Anchored down with all his gear made escaping a challenge. The combined weight of weapons and armor didn't make things easy, without military grade straps, very little of his munitions were holding still. Only by the miracle of low riding cars and easily climbable debris was Nate able to put get away, but the super mutant refused to let the squishy human off so easy.

The chase had led to an old building, someway from the main road. Nate barreled through a broken door. It looked as every structure had after the bombs fell in the war. The blast had knocked holes in everything and time had done a fine job widened them, unfortunately, none were big enough for him to slip through. He guessed that it was intended to be an apartment building before the bombs, it looked as though even now, it was still home to someone. There was clutter everywhere suggesting that whoever had been here before was long gone now.

An intangible roar came from not too far behind. The mutant hadn't given up the chase just yet, and from the murderous look in its eyes, it had no intention to either.

Nate ascended a flight of stairs at a speed, taking two to three at a time, and grabbed the first thing he could see to put between him the mutant down below. He dragged and kicked simple wooden table down the stairwell to prolong his attacker's approach. It tumbled down the stairs, almost breaking as it did, and wedged itself between the small walls as a barricade. Unconvinced the table would slow it down, he turned his sights on a fridge and pushed it down to join the table. He gave a sigh of relief as it clinked all the way down and took up a good portion of the stairwell.

He didn't get eight steps before the mutant pushed its way through the doorway, too small for a creature its size, and made for the blockade. With another roar, it crushed the table in a single stomp of its powerful foot. There wasn't much time.

There was no time to consider a way to double back and run past the mutant, the only objective was to get away. He searched frantically around for the third flight to take him higher, only to be met with a crumbled mess that resembled what used to be the next set of stairs. Not uncommon to see in a collapsed ruin such as this, most likely broken to secure the floor above. Nate would have done the same had he been up there, but he wasn't, he was downstairs with a raging abomination that was going to use his bones as toothpicks.

He put his faith that in the power of the bombs and hoped that there was a was a hole somewhere that would lead to the safety of another building. His prayer was answered with bittersweet results. There was a hole he could pass through comfortably, but it was up on the next level. What allowed him to see that hole was the other gaping hole that was in the ceiling.

"Stop – grr, running human! Let me- arg, SMASH YOU." The mutant's shouting was separated by a few grunts; no doubt it was trying to force its large body through the stairwell.

It was angrier now than when the game of radiated cat and mouse first began. It was about to win, and like any mouse pushed into a corner, Nate prepared for the coming battle.

The shotgun made him feel like he actually stood a chance of surviving the encounter, however slim the chance might have been. He popped open the magazine to see how many shells he had left to put his faith in. Though the magazine wasn't large, it had been enough to do the job in the past. He fed two more rounds into the gun, dropping the third one in his nervousness. He followed the shell as it rolled into the next room over. Focused only on retrieving the bullet, Nate didn't see the body he bumped into that hung just above his head.

Draped in ripped and torn clothing, he could see the many signs of primitive torture done to the poor soul. He wouldn't have been able to function properly, certainly not well enough to survive in the Wasteland. Whoever he was, and whatever he had done to earn the marks, he had only recently given up on the world, deciding instead to let his body hang from the rafters. He swung back and forth ever so gently from the gentle push, it very barely hung in the second level at all. Watching its pendulum-like motion, Nate realized something. The body could be reached. With a slight boost, it could be hung on which meant that it climbed up. Riding on the coattails of his observation, the mutant roared in triumph, finally getting its square body through the round hole.

Nate collected his shell and threw all of his weight behind running into a couch. It skidded across the floor and stopped just short of the body, but perfect alignment was far from the most pressing matter at hand. He knocked over the furniture piece as he jumped upwards and off the back frame. The corpse had held true and Nate clung on for dear life. He swayed along with it as he tried to pull himself to safety. The body was cold in the way only a body can be. Nate tried to avoid thinking about how his bare hands were tugging at dead flesh, how it reeked of the early stages of decomposition and how his thumb then accidentally slipped inside of an eye socket and popped the dead man's peeper. Nate could only gag and force himself to keep climbing as the eye jelly coated his finger and oozed down to his palm. Eventually, he pulled past the body and connected with the entwined fibers of the rope, made of nylon polyester, polypropylene, and not human skin. Halfway into his climb to salvation, the super mutant finally made its long-delayed appearance.

Other than breathing heavily, it appeared to have no visible injuries from its earlier encounter with the space too small for a body so unnaturally large. By trait, mutants were not observant creatures, and in its current state of anger, it took a minute for the mutant to see the human climbing up. Sixty heart pounding seconds later the mutant found and reminded him that he wasn't going to get away so easy. That when he was caught, he was going to be beaten against the wall until his little bitty body was nothing than a mess of gore. The threat seemed to have broken the human's sense of pacing and he fumbled about like a fly stuck in a spider's web.

Nate hadn't responded too well to the threat. He panicked and had abandoned the steady climbing pace he had established before the thought of becoming paste had been thrust upon him. The mutant responded just as negatively and pulled at the leg of the human rope, tugging with a force that ripped the now already loose leg right out of its socket. Without a limb to keep the blood in, it very quickly dribbled out of the desecrated body and showered the giant in tainted crimson.

Unfazed by the steady stream, the mutant dropped his weapon and tried again to seize the living human by taking the dead one in both hands and ripping the rope from the ceiling. As a last ditch effort, Nate leaped from the rope. The jump hadn't been quite as successful as he had hoped, nothing that day had been, and his body collided with a chunk of flooring that knocked the wind out of him. To not fall down into the grasp of the very dedicated monster down below, he clung desperately to the metal beam that poked out of the in-between of the upper floor and lower ceiling. The last of Nate's strength was focused on pulling his body, gear and all, up onto the upper level of the building. It was with great effort from both his arms and climbing ability, he finally dragged himself up and over the beam and slumped onto the floor of the sought after third story.

The raging super mutant was still down below, but for now, he was safe. Safe from the threat of being pulverized into mush at least. Instead, his biggest concern had become how he was going to get away afterwards. Lying on the ground for the few seconds he had was enough for the ache of his muscles to flair to life. His body's way of punishing him for such an exercise. Nate embraced the pain, it meant he was alive to feel it, and really, it was nothing compared to what the mutant might have done.

It seemed that the danger was over. The super mutant had stomped back down the stairs, knocking a considerable sized hole in the unsuspecting wall on its way down. Nate was content to just lay in his well-earned muscle ache and let the breath come back to him slowly. He dared to believe that he was calm until he heard yet another cry of rage from his tormentor. He sat up, waiting for another nightmare-inducing threat, but none came. Instead, a bright red car came crashing through the aforementioned hole. It flew and fell with all the grace expected from 2 tons of metal being hurdled into a building. It wasn't long until the super mutant had begun to climb atop the car to boost itself upward. It was smarter, and immensely more hell bent than Nate had given it credit for.

It poked its ugly head through the top of the hole and reached grabbed for Nate's legs. Nate scampered back preparing to shoot. The mutant ducked back down before he was ready. It knew better than to expose itself when a firearm pointed directly at its head. Very few creatures could withstand a blast of fiery hot lead at point blank range, and super mutants sure weren't one of them. Nate gripped his shotgun and decided to put the brief moment to use. He dashed for the hole. With all the energy his body could muster from its few minutes of rest, Nate leaped from the building he had cornered himself into the safety of enemy free rooftop.

As the building approached, Nate tucked himself into a roll. His shoulder hit down first then his back wore the rest of the initial landing. The roll itself wasn't as painful as he had expected, it wasn't a pleasant landing, the armor had protected him from the brunt of the fall. He rubbed his bruises, the dull pain didn't warrant any pain killers.

From his new standpoint, Nate could see the mutant clumsily pull itself up to the third floor. Upon seeing the hole, it didn't take long for the mutant to see just where it was his prey had escaped to and for it to try the same. Nate went for his shotgun to find it had slipped away during the landing and slid over to the far end of the rooftop. Once he retrieved it the mutant was making the jump. He pulled the trigger just in time to fire a round at his airborne foe. The shell ate through the thin metal plated armor and the force of the shot was enough to affect its landing. The mutant was too heavy to make the jump as cleanly as Nate, and when it reached for the wound it gave up all chance of grabbing the ledge. It collided head first into the side of the building then fell backward, hitting a brick windowsill on its way down.

Nate stood for a brief moment in complete silence, then broke it in a triumphant "Yes!" of victory. He basked in the death of the mutant, there was no chance of it getting up from that, not at the height it fell from. Though once again, the mutant sought to prove him wrong. It sounded weak, but he distinctly heard it whimper.

"Human."

Nate dared to peer over the edge to witness what had become of the mutant and all its rage. It wasn't a pretty sight, all mangled and bloody, it certainly wasn't getting back up again, the crooked leg made that very clear. What did it want? Nate made the return jump, carefully dropped back down onto the car, and meandered through the building. There were no valuables to be taken, so he moved on hastily.

Basking in the sun and wallowing in its agony was the super mutant. Approaching it made Nate uneasy as if weren't actually crippled, but simply waiting for him to get close. When it didn't leap up and grab him he wasn't entirely sure how to react. There it was, nearly dead and hating every second it spent, even still it didn't seem to stop fighting. It was groping for its super sledge but only pawing at the air. Nate almost felt the slight twang of pity for the abomination until he remembered the game of cat and mouse they had been playing for the past several hours, then he just got angry. How long did he have until sundown? 3:47pm flashed on his Pipboy.

"Great. Just great. Now going to have to sleep out here. Damn super mutant."

"Suffer, human," it groaned. "My brothers will find you and make you suffer for your arrogance."

The comment had earned the mutant a harsh glared from Nate. Had it the choice, it would have spent every last ounce of breath taunting the human. Nate wasn't about to walk away and give it the satisfaction thinking it had somehow won. A quick round to the head was the plan but then a better idea came to mind. Use the monster's own weapon against him. Saving a bullet and relieving frustration at the same time. Ideal.

A stomp to the mutant's forearm and stopped it reaching for its weapon. It groaned at the pain but kept its toothy mouth shut. Nate plucked it from the ground and weighed it up in both hands. For a man like him, it wasn't a practical choice of weapon. He raised it, ready to swing, but couldn't. The mutant stared wordlessly, it too was ready face death, but it lived. Nate still couldn't do it, not like this. It wasn't right. He had done wrong before, so much wrong, blackmailing, to stealing, and murdering, but this his line, this was borderline psychotic. The sledge fell to the sidewalk, leaving a minor dent as it did, and Nate took a deep breath. He smiled to himself despite the morbid situation he was in. Morality was still there, and this time, it had won out. Walking away now would have been just as cruel. Ending the mutant's life with mercy wasn't so much for the creature's sake, but for his own.

One shotgun shell to its giant green dome later and Nate was off again. Of course, when he returned to Diamond City, everyone in the Dugout bar would know he brained the mutant with the hammer, but first, he still had a job to do.

A.N. Hey, welcome to the end of the story, glad you stuck through. Hope you enjoyed it. Now, if I've done this correctly, and I do hope I have, then it should be _just_ sitting on the line of gross-out graphic. If you have a minute, and I can't imagine why you'd be here otherwise, I would love to hear your thoughts on it.


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